


You and I Are All I Want

by kawaiisumi



Category: Free!
Genre: Friends to Lovers, M/M, Pining, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-22
Updated: 2019-05-22
Packaged: 2020-03-09 09:35:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18914299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kawaiisumi/pseuds/kawaiisumi
Summary: Everything in their perfect little world is perfect, encased in a snow globe that has cherry blossoms for glittery snowflakes, and a melancholy melody that plays over and over again. Yet, Makoto can’t help the gnawing feeling in his stomach that begins to ache from the moment he wakes up, to the moment he falls back asleep.Aka, pining has never felt this painful.





	You and I Are All I Want

**Author's Note:**

> I've been writing this fic for what feels like _ages_ now. To read this fic requires a little bit of instructions:
> 
> Any sections in regular text take place in the present - approximately second year university.
> 
> Any sections in italics takes place in the past - anywhere from elementary school, middle school, or high school.
> 
> To understand some of the past sections it would be wise to have read chapter 2 of the original High Speed! novel, which you can find here: https://sunnyskies.dreamwidth.org/1146.html
> 
> The school year in Japan is a little different from the Western school system, so here's an outline of the university school year, so the timeline of events makes sense:
> 
> 1st (spring) semester April 1 - August 5  
> Summer vacation August 6 – September 20  
> 2nd (fall) semester September 21 – February 2  
> Winter vacation December 26 – January 4  
> Spring vacation February 3 – March 31 
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

**You and I Are All I Want**  
_Aka, pining has never felt this painful._

_April_

Makoto wakes to the sunlight draped across his face, and the smell of coffee in the air. He pries open his eyes, and notes that he’s not at home. Yet, the familiarity is so strong, it could basically be home. The sheets are scratchy, but a muted navy blue that clings to the scent of chlorine and dollar store soap. Makoto brushes his eyes with the back of his hands, blinking through the fog of morning brain, and focusing in on the fact that the spot beside him is empty and cold.

He gets out of bed, following the enticing smell of coffee, to find Haru in the kitchen. Haru wears his favourite blue hoodie and his classic apron, prodding at a piece of mackerel on his stovetop. “You’re awake,” He says, turning when he hears Makoto enter the kitchen. “Did you sleep well?”

“I’m sorry I overstayed again,” Makoto replies sheepishly, though helps himself to a cup of coffee. Haru doesn’t even drink coffee, but whenever Makoto is here, a fresh pot always seems to be available in the morning.

“Doesn’t matter,” Haru shrugs, “you were here late.”

Makoto combs through his words for meaning, something, anything, that might tell him how Haru feels. Yet, Haru’s words remain quiet and the spaces between the lines turn up empty. “Are you hungry? I have eggs in the fridge.”

“Just toast is fine,” Makoto insists, not wanting to bother Haru any more than he already has. He slips four pieces of bread into Haru’s obscenely large toaster (a going away present from his mom when they left for Tokyo), leaning against the counter to watch Haru cook. Whenever he cooks, Haru’s eyebrows furrow just slightly in concentration. Makoto wonders if that will cause Haru to have wrinkles in their old age.

“The toast is done,” Haru says, when Makoto doesn’t move at the sound of the bread popping out of the toaster. Makoto flushes, turning his attention to buttering the toast as Haru takes his fish off the grill. “You’re acting weird,” Haru insists.

The two sit at the table together, Makoto sipping his coffee, and Haru drinks his standard glass of water. “I just feel bad that I’ve been sleeping over at your house so much,” Makoto says with a bashful smile. “Especially when I have my own apartment.”

Haru shrugs again, clearly unbothered, “You finish work late and my place is closer. It’s not a big deal.”

“We don’t have to keep sharing your bed,” Makoto replies, “I can sleep on the couch.”

“Makoto, stop worrying,” Haru says, leaning over the table to give his friend a flick in the face. “I don’t mind. It’s just like when we were kids. It’s not a big deal.”

Makoto nods wordlessly, gaze drifting off to the window, where the cherry blossoms flutter from the branches. It’s spring again. One year has passed since they first moved to Tokyo, and everything feels the same. He and Haru meet at the train station every morning and part ways for school. They meet up again afterwards. Makoto teaches at the community center pool and Haru swims in the adjacent lane until he’s done.

Everything in their perfect little world is perfect, encased in a snow globe that has cherry blossoms for glittery snowflakes, and a melancholy melody that plays over and over again. Yet, Makoto can’t help the gnawing feeling in his stomach that begins to ache from the moment he wakes up, to the moment he falls back asleep.

_“It’s not a big deal.”_

Haru says that, and Makoto imagines it’s because it isn’t. At least, not to Haru. To Haru, he’s just Makoto, his scaredy-cat childhood best friend that snores in his sleep when he’s exhausted, and drinks his coffee with two sugars in the morning. But Haru… Haru is much more than that to Makoto.

Haru is the air that fills his lungs when he feels like he’s drowning; the lighthouse in his storm. He’s the soft breaths and unsaid words when they lie beside each other, the heart racing and warmth that spreads through Makoto’s whole body when he says a word. Haru is everything. He always has been, and Makoto has a sinking feeling in the pit of his chest that Haru always will be.

“Something’s wrong,” Haru says. The words are nonchalant, in that breezy aloof tone that makes Makoto’s fingers tingle. The apathy on Haru’s face is palpable, but Makoto can see right through it. Haru is concerned for him. He always is when he thinks something is wrong. And it amazes Makoto every day how easily Haru can read him, but how little he knows about the feelings that sit like rocks in the center of his heart.

“Nothing’s wrong,” Makoto smiles, a ghostly grin that haunts his face every time Haru looks at him with those piercing blue eyes. Sometimes Haru pressures him harder for an answer, but some days he relents.

Today is the latter.

Haru pushes away from the table, clearing the used plates and cups. “You can get ready first. You have an earlier class than I do,” Makoto says, knowing full well Haru will still wait for him and they will leave together.

Haru nods, depositing the used dishes in the sink and floating by Makoto on his way to the bathroom. He lingers for a moment, and Makoto swears Haru stares at him like he’s made of glass. Haru’s fingers brush his cheek, and he flinches. “Haru…”

“You had an eyelash on your face,” Haru says, holding up his finger with a bemused smile. “Want to make a wish?”

Makoto chuckles uneasily, forcing himself to breathe, though his skin still sizzles with Haru’s touch. “Okay,” he says with a smile.

_I wish you would notice me_ , Makoto thinks desperately to himself, blowing the eyelash away.

Haru smiles and disappears into the bathroom.

_ May _

_Haru’s grandmother dies suddenly at the beginning of their third year in middle school. Makoto remembers eating lunch with Haru at his desk, when their teacher summons Haru to the office. Lunch ends, but Haru never comes back._

_Makoto packs up both of their lunches. Class starts again, but Haru’s desk is still empty._

_That day he walks home alone with two bags. His teacher asks him to bring Haru’s stuff over to his house. She doesn’t really say where Haru went, but Makoto has a feeling that its not very good. When he arrives at Haru’s house, he’s surprised to see Haru’s mother there._

_She and Haru’s father had moved to Yokohama in their second year for work, and had left Haru with his grandmother in Iwatobi._

_“Makoto-chan, long time no see,” Haru’s mother says, tired eyes turning up when she smiles. She’s always been a pretty woman; long jet-black hair and almond shaped blue eyes. Haru inherited a lot from his mother._

_“Hello,” Makoto replies. He holds out Haru’s school bag, “Our teacher asked me to bring Haru’s stuff home. Is he doing alright?”_

_His mother lets him in. The atmosphere in the house is heavy. Makoto notices it right away. Something has changed. “… Haru’s grandmother died this morning,” Haru’s mother says finally. Makoto understands now. Haru being pulled out of class, the quietness of the house, his mother being home… It all sinks in like a rock aching in his stomach. “He’s upstairs in his room, won’t come out, maybe you can talk to him.”_

_The trip up the stairs feels like an eternity. He knocks on Haru’s door, “Haru-chan…?” He whispers quietly, “Can… Can I come in?”_

_The door opens slightly, and Makoto sees Haru dart away to his bed. Swallowing hard, Makoto pries the door open and comes in. The curtains are drawn. Things are scattered on the floor; books, wadded up tissues, paint supplies… It looks like a tornado has gone through Haru’s bedroom._

_Haru lies on his bed, his back to the door. Haru tries to act like he doesn’t have feelings, but Makoto knows, he always knows. “Haru-chan…” Makoto sits beside him, the mattress sinking with his weight. “I’m sorry,” Makoto says, not knowing what else can be said._

_“There’s nothing to be sorry about,” Haru replies. His voice is hoarse, barely above a whisper._

_Makoto shakes his head, lying down beside him. He stares at the ceiling, and contemplates how many times they’ve laid like this before. He remembers Haru’s grandmother wishing them good night, as she shuts off the lights and pads down the hall to her own room. He remembers waking up to the smell of grilled fish and fried eggs. He remembers all these things and can’t imagine how much Haru is hurting. “I’m sorry you’re hurting,” Makoto says finally, laying a hand on the small of Haru’s back. And suddenly it’s like something cracks inside of Haru, and his body is trembling, heaving with sobs that positively break Makoto’s heart._

_“Hey… hey… It’s okay,” Makoto shifts, wrapping his arms around Haru who can’t stop shaking, can’t stop crying. Makoto has never seen Haru cry before, and it’s definitely not something he wants to see ever again._

_“She’s gone,” Haru sputters, trying to catch his breath. He holds tightly to Makoto’s arm, tears soaking into his sleeve. But Makoto doesn’t care. He holds Haru close, his back against Makoto’s chest, and they lay there for a long time._

_“I know,” Makoto says. “I know.”_

_ June _

As summer approaches, Haru grows busier. Swim practice eats up a lot of his time, and Makoto finds himself walking home alone more nights than not. He continues life as usual, taking the train to school, teaching swimming at the community pool. But he misses going home to Haru’s house, where they watch TV and Makoto pretends to be shocked when Haru makes mackerel for dinner.

Haru sends him a text at almost 11 o’clock.

_Just got home. Good night._

It’s short, and it’s mundane, but it makes Makoto’s chest tighten. Sometimes he’s envious; envious of a world that Haru’s a part of that’s so far away from him. He’s not like Rin, or Asahi, or Ikuya, or any of the others. In the summer it’s like they’re off in their own little worlds, hours of swim practice and far away training camps.

But that’s what makes Haru so happy, and who is Makoto to come between that?

When the weather is nice outside, the two decide to go on a picnic. Haru has a break in his training schedule, and Makoto all but jumps at the chance to spend time with him. Makoto has never been one to cook, but he spends all morning trying to assemble a picnic basket that he can share with Haru.

He’s nervous when he arrives at Haru’s door, and can’t help but laugh out loud when Haru answers with his own picnic basket in hand.

“You can’t cook,” Haru says embarrassedly, as the two walk from his apartment to the park. Makoto craves moments like these, where everything feels normal.

“I can cook! I do live on my own now,” Makoto insists with a laugh. By now the cherry trees are teeming with green leaves, and they sit under its shade and just talk.

It’s been so long since they spent time alone together, it feels almost bizarre. Haru opens his picnic basket and to no one’s surprise, he’s brought mackerel and white rice. Makoto laughs. His own basket ends up being filled with only fruit and candy. “I thought you said you could cook?” Haru says. A rare smile grazes his face, a subtle tease in his voice.

“You can never go wrong with fruits and candy,” Makoto insists, biting into the tease, “here.” He peels a tangerine, extending a piece out to Haru, “Say ah Haru-chan!”

“Stop calling me that,” Haru says, though leans forward to take the piece of fruit into his mouth. Haru is so close to him, Makoto knows he could just reach out and touch him. Their eyes lock, and there’s a moment where the world feels like it’s stopped. It’s inviting. Haru’s eyes are vast like the sea, and Makoto knows he could get lost so easily.

“Haru-chan,” Makoto says, “have you ever kept a secret?”

Haru blinks perplexedly, “Where did that come from?”

Makoto flushes. After all this time, he would think he’d get over his impulsivity and inability to just control himself when it comes to Haru. Yet, here he is digging himself into holes he’ll never get out of. “Ah! I was just… wondering.”

Haru lies down on their picnic blanket and closes his eyes. “I don’t think so,” Haru says nonchalantly, folding his arms beneath his head as a pillow.

Makoto bites his lip, and he can’t help but ask, “If I was keeping a secret from you, would you be mad?”

The words come out before he can stop them, and a hand flies to his mouth. Haru doesn’t move, nor question Makoto’s motives. Instead he replies with ease, “No.”

Makoto sags with relief, his feelings are safe for another day. He leans against the trunk of the tree, trying to calm his racing heart.

“Makoto would never keep a secret from me,” Haru says, breaking the silence. “It would kill him inside.”

Makoto can’t do anything but swallow the lump in his throat.

_July_ __

_It takes a long time for him to come to his decision._

_He applies to Tokyo universities without a lot of faith that he’ll get accepted anyway. He’s fine the way things are, he tries to convince himself. He’s fine with staying here in this small port town, as long as Haru is by his side._

_But then his acceptance letter comes in, and then another, and another. His mother’s face lights up with excitement, and suddenly it feels like the future is bearing down on him faster than it ever has before._

_It’s a Tuesday when he gets his letter from Meijou Chuo. He’s almost in disbelief when he gets it. Of all the schools he wanted to go to, Meijou was his first choice. Makoto tears the envelope open with his index finger, coaxing the letter out. He reads it over once, then again, than again._

_He got into his first-choice program – sports education._

_“What are you looking at?”_

_Makoto jumps. Haru stares back at him with a confused expression. Makoto hides the letter behind his back, giving Haru a weak smile. “Nothing!” He says sheepishly, “Just some… some junk mail. I’ll be right back.”_

_Makoto scrunches up the letter, shoving it into his back pocket. “Say Haru…” Makoto says, trying to breech a topic he knows is sensitive for his best friend. “Do you… Do you have any plans for after graduation?”_

_Haru’s face immediately becomes irritated, the corners of his lips creasing as he frowns. “I don’t want to talk about it,” he replies indignantly. “As long as we’re together, it’s fine isn’t it?”_

_Makoto’s heart skips a beat as they climb up the steps to Haru’s house._

_Haru rarely refers to them as a pair, despite how much time they spend together. Makoto realizes in that moment he never wants to let Haru go._

_He fears that if he does, it’ll crush him. Haru means everything to him. Haru is his umbrella in the rain, the salt in his tears, the good in the bad. Parting from Haru means parting from everything he’s ever known, and that thought_ terrifies _him._

_It’s a striking moment, quiet and passing in almost a second, but it changes the course of Makoto’s life forever._

_He loves Haru._

_Not the way he loves his brother and sister. Not the way he loves his mother and father. Not even the way he loves Rei, Nagisa, and Rin._

_It sits deep in the cavity of his chest where his heart beats, traveling in his blood at a hundred miles per second to every fibre of his being, every cell of his body._

_Ba dump, ba dump, ba dump._

_It’s crashing and coming together at the same time; coming in from the cold into a prickling warmth that tingles in his skin._

_He’s loved Haru all this time._

_And he’s never known just how much until now._

_“What’s wrong?” Haru asks. Makoto realizes he’s about 5 steps behind Haru, frozen in place._

_There are so many words fighting in Makoto’s brain he feels it in the back of his eyes. He suddenly feels like he might cry, and his knees feel so weak, he might fall over. Haru looks at him with those beautiful blue eyes, towering over him on the steps._

_Makoto imagines what will happen if he tells Haru exactly what he’s feeling._

_“I love you!” He wants to yell. He wants to run to the top of the hill to the Misagozaki shrine that sits at the top and scream to heaven how much he loves Haru. But his voice falls dead in his throat and his body is stiff and unwilling._

_It’s like crashing and coming together; knowing this moment will make or break a friendship he has spent his entire life crafting._

_“It’s nothing,” Makoto smiles. It’s the first of many hallow smiles that makes his cheeks burn. The kind of smiles he plasters on his face so Haru can’t see – won’t let him see – how much love is aching to burst through his chest. “I thought I forgot something at home.”_

_Haru shrugs, letting Makoto catch up to him and they continue to walk up the steps to Haru’s house._

_“You’re a weird best friend Makoto,” Haru says._

_Words so simple, so mundane, that twist in Makoto’s stomach like a knife._

_“I’ll always be your weird best friend,” Makoto replies with a laugh._

_ August _

__I have to let him go _, Makoto thinks to himself. The fireworks boom overhead, shattering into a rainbow of colours over the sea. The sound rings in his ears, but he hears nothing. All these years, he’s stayed by Haru’s side. He’s always let Haru do as he pleases. But right now, as Haru runs away from him, he realizes he never wants to watch Haru go._

_But Haru has never felt farther away._

_ September _

Haru’s final tournament is at the end of September. He spends the majority of the summer working his way through. The training camps started in June. The tournaments started in July. Makoto goes to every single one.

He meets Haru at the entrance to the locker rooms. Haru’s hair is still wet, and Makoto chastises him. “You’re going to catch a cold,” Makoto insists. He looks through his bag for his handkerchief and uses it to blot the excess water on Haru’s head.

“I have a towel, you know,” Haru muses, but nonetheless lets Makoto continue on his fretting. “We’re going for hot pot anyway. I won’t get cold.”

Makoto blushes, stuffing his handkerchief back in his bag. Sometimes he lets Haru do as he pleases, and this is one of those times.

But of course – Haru gets sick.

Haru calls him late the next morning with a grumpy, stuffy voice. Makoto knows immediately, just by the way Haru breathes into the receiver. “I can’t get up,” Haru complains. Makoto hears him blow his nose. “I can’t cook my mackerel.”

Makoto laughs, “Would you like me to come over and do it for you?”

Haru dryly takes another shot at Makoto’s horrendous cooking skills, but that doesn’t stop him Makoto from coming anyway. Haru answers the door in a pair of sweatpants. The first thing Makoto notices is Haru isn’t wearing a shirt. His eyes follow the lines of Haru’s abs, creeping toward the v-lines that frame his slim hips.

It’s suddenly very hard for Makoto to swallow.

“I got hot,” Haru says, noting Makoto staring at him. Haru’s face is flushed, his bangs sticking to his forehead from sweat.

“You should lie back down Haru-chan,” Makoto insists, steering Haru toward the couch. _Planet Earth_ plays from the DVD player, with a tissue box and cup of tea on the coffee table. Haru begrudgingly lies back on the couch. Makoto knows he hates being told what to do.

Makoto sits on the floor, shaking the contents of a convenience store bag out onto the table. Haru raises his eyebrows at the 5 packages of cup noodles. “You’re the one that’s always saying I can’t cook,” Makoto says. But he’s also brought cough syrup, green tea, and those little gummy dolphin candies Haru likes so much.

They spend the afternoon eating cup noodles and watching the fresh water section of _Planet Earth_. At some point, Haru falls asleep, and Makoto takes it upon himself to clean up a bit. He’s washing utensils in the sink when he notices something stuck to Haru’s fridge.

It’s a painting of Haru – splotches of messy blue for eyes, and streaks of black for hair. It’s somewhat out of place in Haru’s otherwise stark apartment; but Makoto remembers it.

He painted it in kindergarten that time they all finger painted for Valentine’s Day. He laughs to himself now, thinking how naïve he was back then. He’s always loved Haru, ever since they were kids. Back then, it was Haru who came to his aid when he cried, and held his hand on the playground. Makoto did everything he could back then to show Haru how much it meant to him.

Makoto can’t believe Haru still has the painting after all this time – and hung it up in his Tokyo apartment no less. But the memories it brings makes Makoto smile.

“What are you smiling about?” Haru’s standing in the entryway to the kitchen. A bemused smile sits on his face.

“Oh nothing,” Makoto replies with a flush of his cheeks. “I just noticed the painting on the fridge.”

“I found it when I was packing up my room back home,” Haru says. “It reminds me of home.”

Their life has always been intertwined. To Makoto, he needs nothing more than to look at Haru to feel like he’s come home. “Me too,” Makoto says. “Maybe I should paint another one to remind you of this home?” He teases.

Haru scoffs, “I’ll put it up on the fridge.”

_ October _

_Nagisa makes them do it. No matter how Makoto flails his arms or begs, Nagisa pushes him into the haunted house that class 2-C made for the annual Iwatobi festival. His own shift at his class’ rice ball café is over, and Nagisa coos at the sight of the neighbouring haunted house in 2-C’s classroom._

_It’s dark inside, and Makoto can hear footsteps. No doubt it’s the students running around preparing the scare tactics. But it makes Makoto jumpy regardless._

_“Makoto.”_

_Makoto nearly screams until a tug at his shirt brings his attention to the shorter male beside him. “Haru?!” He whispers sharply._

_“You went in without me,” Haru says, without missing a beat._

_“What are you- Nagisa pushed me in here! I don’t even want to be here!”_

_Haru seems to pay no mind to Makoto’s shrill terror. “I heard they borrowed the Iwatobi-chan costume for this,” Haru says._

_Of course, Haru is here for Iwatobi-chan._

_“Haru-chan…” Makoto whines, grabbing hold of Haru’s shirt like he always does. Being in the dark gives him the creeps. Like they have since they were children, Makoto follows Haru through the haunted house. He’s pressed against Haru’s back, so close together he can hear Haru breathing. From behind him, Makoto feels something slide against his shoulder and he positively screeches._

_Haru flinches in response, quickly pushing Makoto behind him. It must look weird to anyone else. But that was always their normal. Growing up, Haru had always been taller than Makoto. After all, he’s months older than him and Makoto had always been a scrawny kid. It was an unspoken agreement between the two of them. Makoto was the scaredy-cat. Haru went to any length to protect him from his fears. Makoto noticed it one day, when Haru moved to his other side when they started walking along the beach boardwalk the week after the monsoon._

_“Haru-chan?” He’d asked._

_Haru simply brushed him off, claiming that he liked being closer to the water._

_But Makoto had a feeling Haru was doing it for him._

_Makoto catches his breath when Haru flicks the plastic spider hanging on a string that had tickled Makoto’s skin. “Looks like it’s from the dollar store,” Haru says. Makoto’s shoulders sag with relief, but it quickly dissipates when Haru grabs him and drags him over hastily._

_Makoto takes a look behind him and nearly faints at the sight of a horrendously painted ghoul that jumps out from behind a curtain. He trips on something (probably another prop), and falls to the ground. It takes a moment before he notices he took Haru down with him._

_Haru is sprawled over Makoto’s lanky legs, sitting up and rubbing his head. “Ah! Haru-chan, are you okay? Did you hit your head?” Makoto pulls himself up into a sitting position, reaching a hand out for Haru, brushing his bangs away from his face to look at the goose egg forming on Haru’s forehead._

_“I’m fine,” Haru replies._

_It’s hard to see him in the darkness, but Makoto can make out the curve of Haru’s jaw, the tip of his nose, and those extraordinary eyes. They’re close together, and it’s dark, and intimate, and somehow scarier than being on the floor of a cheap haunted house. Makoto gulps, feeling Haru’s breath against his cheek._

_“Haru-chan?” Haru hasn’t stopped staring the entire time._

_Hearing his name seems to break Haru out of a daze. He pulls away, turning just as someone stumbles in on them in the Iwatobi-chan costume with a bloodied toy fish in its beak._

_But Makoto doesn’t see any of that, all he sees is Haru’s face; the expression in the dark that was so hard to read._

_ November _

Makoto can’t concentrate in lecture. Every time he closes his eyes, he sees Haru’s face, smiling at him, with his hand cupping Makoto’s face. It makes him feel charged with electricity, like a livewire.

“Tachibana, are you okay?” One of his classmates ask when the lecture is over. “You’re not one to space out in lecture.”

Makoto blushes, waving his hands sporadically in the air. “O-oh, I’m fine! I guess I didn’t sleep well last night,” he lies. He’s gotten so good at lying about how he feels; it slides off his tongue without a second thought. He swallows, stuffing his books into his bag and exiting the room in a perceived hurry, hoping to avoid his classmate’s watchful gaze. 

He exhales, sinking onto one of the benches outside the lecture hall. It’s only then that he lets his shoulders relax, unaware that he had been holding so much tension in his body. The weather is still cold; warm enough that Makoto can feel the sunshine on his skin, but cold enough to make his toes curl in his shoes. He wonders what Haru is doing right now. His class would’ve ended around the same time as his. Maybe he’s sitting in his school’s cafeteria eating lunch.

He can imagine Haru sitting with his mackerel and miso soup, face muted but amused as Asahi rambles on about something passionate while Kisumi laughs from across the table. Makoto wishes he was with them; wishes he could eat lunch with Haru every day like he used to.

_December_

Asahi puts mistletoe up at the Christmas party. Kisumi giggles as Asahi tacks it to the archway that bridges his apartment’s living room to the kitchen. Bubbly laughter erupts from his mouth, and Makoto knows they are long gone on champagne already.

Meanwhile, Haru sits on the couch with a stoic expression, staring out the window. Makoto turns his head to look. Snow has begun to fall. It’s the fluffy kind of snow, fine like powdered sugar, and sweet when caught on the tip of your tongue. The wind has stilled for a moment, to let the snow drift like cherry blossoms in the spring, twinkling in the Tokyo skyline. The lights are hazy yellow and warm. The city is filled with so many people, but the only person Makoto wants to be with is right in front of him.

Haru notices him staring, shifting over on the couch so Makoto can sit beside him. Makoto relaxes into the spot Haru’s left for him, tucking his feet beneath the knitted blanket Asahi’s sister made him for Christmas.

Haru takes a final sip of his water, discarding the glass on the coffee table. This is their first Christmas in Tokyo. The plan had been to go home to Iwatobi, but all flights had been cancelled the day before due to snow fall.

Asahi suggests they have a small get together at his place instead, which prompts his crazy escapades with Kisumi as they gobble up the snacks Hiyori brings as a present. Ikuya has fallen asleep on the couch, his head resting in Hiyori’s lap. Though, Hiyori doesn’t seem to mind. His fingers drift through Ikuya’s dark teal hair as he watches a late-night cooking channel program.

Makoto’s heart burns with envy. If he closes his eyes, maybe he can imagine that’s him and Haru.

“Do you miss your family?”

Haru’s words break through the darkness. His hand rests on Makoto’s knee, smoothing out the blanket.

Makoto has never spent Christmas without his family before. It’s weird that he and the twins aren’t setting out cookies and milk for Santa, that there is no fireplace and no stockings, and no presents under a Christmas tree.

Instead, there’s Asahi’s ghastly succulent that he forgot to water last week, with a giant red ribbon tied around the pot.

“Yeah,” Makoto says, slowly inching closer to Haru. Haru’s body is so slim; so small, and so warm. Makoto aches to hold him in his arms, and just breathe. It feels like he’s been holding his breath for much too long, and his lungs burn for oxygen. He’ll take as little as he can get.

Maybe it’s his imagination, but Haru slides to the left just enough for their arms to touch, and Makoto feels more than he has in a long time. “How about you Haru?”

“Not really,” Haru says, closing his eyes. “My grandmother was the only one who really cared for Christmas.”

“Makoto!” Asahi’s voice is sharp and shatters the illusion of intimacy Makoto had carved out of the warmth in his belly. Asahi’s face is red, nearly as red as his hair, and Kisumi clings to him with arms wrapped around his neck. “You’re under the mistletoe!” Asahi coos, dangling the limp piece of mint and cherry he and Kisumi strung together in the kitchen.

Makoto laughs nervously, and Haru opens his eyes.

He wonders if he’s dreaming when Haru takes his hand, presses it to his lips, and shoos Kisumi away.

_January_ __

_It’s cold. And it’s quiet. Way too quiet. They hit a bump in the road, and Makoto whimpers. He clings tighter to Haru’s shirt, his favourite pale grey one. It makes Haru’s skin look like porcelain, like the perfect glassy smooth skin of a China doll. Yet, everything is damp and it’s freezing, but it feesl familiar and real and like everything isn’t one big nightmare._

_“Haru-chan… Haru-chan…” Makoto chants his name, over and over again, as if that’ll make it all stop. It’ll make the blood stop rushing in his ears. It’ll make the back of the ambulance fade away. It’ll make everything disappear until it’s just him and Haru with his crystal-clear eyes and a frown that Makoto pretends is a smile._

__Don’t go, don’t go _, Makoto’s thoughts race. He clings to Haru’s shirt until he can’t feel his finger tips anymore. When they arrive at the hospital, Rin has to pry his cold hands off of Haru’s shirt so that the paramedics and nurses and doctors can tend to him._

_He should’ve known; should’ve done something, anything, to prevent this. He’d known earlier that day that something was wrong. He’d known that Haru was coming down with a fever, but he didn’t argue when Haru told him he was fine. The next thing he knows, Haru’s lifeless body is floating in the river and Aki is screaming._

_Why didn’t he say anything?_

_Another nurse ushers him and Rin inside the hospital, whisking them away to the waiting room. The chairs are uncomfortable, the spring in the cushion digs into his spine, but Makoto can’t feel anything. He stares at his hands, and they tremble so hard, he squeezes them tight until it stings._

_Rin hasn’t said a word since they got in the ambulance._

_He can’t lose Haru. Not like this. Not now. Not ever._

_Haru is the most precious thing in the world. His very best friend._

_Makoto fears a world without Haru in it._

_A nurse finds him and Rin sitting in the corner of the waiting room. She bends down to his level, stroking his face and telling him that Haru is okay, and they can see him if they want to. Rin gets up from his seat, and Makoto touches his face._

_How long has he been crying? He wonders._

_ February _

“Tachibana-kun, won’t you please come with us?”

She seems nice enough. Makoto remembers her from his introduction to early childhood education class. Her name is Saito Tsumugi; a slender girl about 5 feet tall with long hair the colour of sunshine. Her eyes are a deep green colour, that twinkle and beg like fireworks, so sincere Makoto almost agrees.

She’s been inviting him to a Valentine’s Day mixer for almost 2 weeks now. If anything, Makoto really admires her persistence in the face of rejection.

“I already have plans for today,” Makoto tells her again. “I’m sure if you ask Tanaka-san he’d love to go with you-”

Tsumugi sighs. It’s 5pm on Valentine’s Day, and the sun has already started to set. Makoto supposes maybe she’s finally given up on him. “Your girlfriend is a lucky girl Tachibana-kun,” she says finally, burying her hands into her pink peacoat’s pockets. “Have a nice Valentine’s Day!”

She darts off in the direction of Kabukicho. Makoto wonders if she’ll make it to her mixer on time.

The snow has started turning to slush. It hasn’t snowed in a couple of days, and the trampled snow turns to mush beneath his boots. Makoto walks home today, not particularly in a rush, and desperate to clear his head until his brain calms down and sinks into the fresh air. He wasn’t _lying_ per say when he told her he had plans. He _does_ after all have plans waiting for him at home. Even if it’s a microwave dinner in the freezer and a recorded episode of the _Shibuhara Girls_ on his PVR.

What strikes him the most is Tsumugi’s words: _“Your girlfriend is a lucky girl Tachibana-kun.”_

He’d never thought about it before, but Makoto wonders how easily it would be to find himself a girlfriend. He’s been invited out to mixers before, but he’s declined every single one. (He tries not to think about the one startling nightmare he had about them). He thinks maybe he’s missed out on opportunities to meet new people, or perhaps find someone who loves him. But he’s never been interested in those things.

Though, he must admit to himself that it’s less about being interested in going to mixers, or even looking for a girlfriend, and much more about the fact that there’s only one person he’s ever been interested in.

Makoto thinks at some point he should give up. He falls asleep every night with a new scenario in his head. He dreams of racing pulses and rushed words and courage he’ll never find on his own. He fantasizes about requited feelings and “I love you too”s, but nonetheless wakes up disappointed.

Maybe he should call Tsumugi and tell her to count him in after all. He fishes around his coat pocket for the key to his apartment, and when he turns it in the lock, is surprised to find the door is already unlocked.

He pushes the door open slowly, the metal hinges creaking wearily as he does. The light is on in his kitchen and he hears someone rummaging around. Makoto feels around in the dark genkan until his hands find the golf umbrella his father gave him for Christmas. He takes off his shoes, treading lightly in his socked feet as he sneaks a peek into the kitchen.

“What are you doing?”

Makoto yelps, dropping the umbrella with a clatter. “What am I doing? Haru, what are you doing?” 

Makoto feels like his heart has leapt into his throat, but Haru just shrugs. “Rin told me you haven’t eaten a real meal all week,” he picks up the umbrella, turning on the hallway light to return it back to its place. “There’s no food in your fridge.”

Makoto vaguely has it in his mind to call Rin and tell him to stop ratting out his terrible living habits to Haru over the phone. “I haven’t had time to go grocery shopping.”

“So, I did,” Haru says, grabbing Makoto by the arm and dragging him into the kitchen. “I bought mackerel.”

Makoto is surprised to find a full home cooked meal spread out on his kitchen counter. Granted, it’s Haru’s idea of a full meal: grilled mackerel, white rice, and picked radishes. Yet, the gesture is touching, and Makoto feels his face begin to warm. “Haru you didn’t have to do that…”

Haru brushes him off, shoving a bowl under his chin. “Just eat,” He says.

And Makoto does just that.

He and Haru eat at the kotatsu in the living room with the nature channel playing in the background. They talk about swimming, Rin’s escapades in Australia, and going home for spring vacation.

Makoto laughs when Haru frowns at the idea of leaving the indoor community pool by his apartment. “You should’ve told me you were coming,” Makoto says, after a moment of silence. “I almost made plans.”

Haru’s eyebrow raises, an unsaid question bubbling in his eyes.

“A girl from one of my classes invited me to a Valentine’s Day mixer,” Makoto answers.

Haru is quiet for a moment, like he’s thinking about something. “Why didn’t you go?” He asks.

Makoto’s smile falters for a moment, and a familiar pang in his chest reminds him of his reality. “I just didn’t feel like it,” he decides finally.

_March_ __

_Surprisingly, they are already 6 years old when they first go to the aquarium. Haru’s parents are away for a relative’s funeral, so Haru stays with the Tachibanas for the weekend. Makoto’s mom suggests they go to the aquarium during breakfast._

_They take it slow. Makoto’s mother waddles around with her (very) pregnant belly as Makoto and Haru hold hands and wander around, taking them time to look at all the different neon coloured fish. Makoto’s mom reads the information cards for them, and Makoto squeaks when he sees a fish he claims looks like Ponyo._

_Haru is more fascinated in the fish that are plain, pointing repeatedly again and again to the sawara mackerel and horse mackerel._

_“It doesn’t look like a horse,” Makoto says curiously._

_“That’s just its name,” Haru shrugs. Makoto likes watching Haru when they’re in the aquarium. The blue tint of the glass brings out the colour of Haru’s eyes. Makoto has never seen Haru looks so happy in any place other than the pool._

_A diver jumps into the tank to feed the stingrays and Makoto marvels at the way Haru’s whole face lights up in delight._

_He wonders if Haru will ever look at him like that._

_ April _

It’s spring again. The air has that fresh laundry smell that tinkles with the sound of children’s laughter like silver bells. When Makoto walks home from the train station the sky is still pale blue instead of pitch black. The days get longer, and the air grows warmer.

He should be happy. He tells himself every day. His double major in sports education and sports medicine is working out smoothly, and the kids at his job give him the energy to smile every day. He feels lighter. For lack of a better word, he feels freer.

He’s learning to let go.

All these years, he’s chased and chased after Haru. His hands have always been outstretched, reaching for something he couldn’t hold on to. He’s walked behind, but never beside. He wonders what his life would be like if he had spent his years exploring; seeking out people and experiences and a _life_ beyond the pining and the heartache.

He’s tired of running after someone who doesn’t want to be chased.

It’s a Thursday after swimming lessons. All the kids have gone home, and Makoto is left sitting on the pool deck with the kickboards and pool noodles, sorting them into piles and putting them away. Haru didn’t come for his nightly leisure swim today.

Haru’s been absent lately. Despite what he wishes, it puts an ache in his heart. They’ve been busy. Life has been difficult. They’ve always made time to see each other. They still call every day. But maybe they’re growing up and they’re finally growing apart and Makoto has to accept that the love he’s been scooping in his fingers like water is slowly pouring out.

But maybe he’ll allow himself the luxury of being sad one more time.

He wanders into the locker room, turning the shower knobs until the water is cold like freezing rain. It burns paradoxically, so cold its almost hot. He finally gives up and cries; cries for what could’ve been, _should’ve been_. Their whole life has always been just that: theirs. For Makoto, there had never been his life or Haru’s life. They’d done everything together.

It felt endless. Maybe he was naïve to think that they could go on that way for forever. Haru walking ahead and him wearing his heart on his sleeve until he bled to death. He has to let Haru go; for Haru’s sake and his own.

He turns off the water and gets dressed. As he’s leaving the locker room, a custodian wheels his mop and bucket inside and Makoto realizes how late it is.

It’s cold outside now that the sun is gone. His hair is still wet and cold, and Makoto chuckles, thinking about Haru swimming in their high school pool in April when it’s far too cold.

“Makoto.”

Haru is standing on the sidewalk under the street light. He’s still in his swim jacket and track pants. His hair is wet too, and Makoto figures he must have just gotten back from swim practice at the university. There’s a silent moment, and Makoto wonders what he should do.

No more chasing.

“Hey,” Makoto offers with a wave and a flimsy smile. “I was just leaving.”

“Oh,” Haru says simply. 

The wind rustles by. Makoto misses the way the Iwatobi spring air smells like ocean salt. Haru sneezes. “You should go home, you’ll catch a cold,” Makoto chastises lightly.

“Come with me.”

The request is rather forward for Haru. But then again, they’ve changed a lot since their childhood. Makoto used to speak up for Haru a lot back then. He filled in all the spaces Haru didn’t say; acted like he could read Haru’s mind, when he was desperately hoping to be the only thing on his mind.

“Okay,” Makoto replies.

The walk home is quiet. Neither of them has much to say, and the silence between them is stagnant. “Makoto, can I ask you something?” Haru finally says. They turn the corner, onto Haru’s street that is bursting with trees laden with cherry blossoms. The petals stick to their wet hair, and Makoto blinks them out of his eyelashes.

“Of course. What is it?”

Haru takes two steps ahead of him and turns on his heels. His face is apprehensive and alert. Makoto has never seen Haru look this afraid before. “Do you love me?”

The question hits Makoto like a train to his chest. The hair on his arms raise, the blood rushes to his ears. “W-what?” He stammers.

“Do you love me?” Haru repeats in earnest. His eyebrows furrow with conviction, feet planted firmly to the ground.

“O-of course I love you,” Makoto finally replies, trying to plaster a smile onto his face. “You’re my best friend. I’ve… I’ve always loved you. Like a… like a best friend should.” He chokes up at the last bit, trying to swallow. The street lights flicker and the crickets sing. He wishes Haru would say something.

“You’re lying,” Haru says finally.

Makoto’s head reels, and he tries to come up with something to say. They know each other so well, neither of them can move. Neither knows what to say. “Haru-chan…” It’s now or never, Makoto realizes.

There’s no more chasing, no more empty words and plastic smiles.

“I’ve… I’ve always loved you Haru-chan.”

The words come out easier than he expected; an exhale he’s been holding for years that’s been dying to escape. It feels like a huge weight has been lifted off his shoulders. For a moment, he doesn’t care how Haru responds.

“Why…” Haru is frustrated, blinking rapidly. “Why did you never say anything?”

That’s not the reply Makoto is expecting. He gulps, “I… I didn’t know what you would say.”

Haru rushes forward, faster than Makoto can react. His balled-up fist hits Makoto’s chest with a satisfying _thump_ , rattling his ribs and the heart he’s caged for years. “Makoto,” Haru’s voice has a soft, buttery quality that makes Makoto’s legs wobble.

“Haru… don’t… don’t say it because you think you have to. I don’t need sympathy. I don’t-”

“I love you too.” It feels like the world he’s been living in has been an illusion. A mirage of colours that look like real life, but shatter when Haru speaks. All he sees are Haru’s dark blue eyes and the cherry blossoms. It has to be a dream.

“What?” is all Makoto can say. That doesn’t make sense. All this time, he’s been chasing after Haru, wanting to be heard, wanting to be _seen_.

“Makoto deserves his own destiny. To make his own choices. Even if they don’t involve me,” Haru says. “Makoto deserves more than a world that revolves around me. If you love something, set it free. But… I can’t let you go anymore. Makoto, I love you.” 

Makoto wants to laugh. He wants to cry. And he wants to fall apart all at the same time. All this time, Haru has been trying to let him go. Haru’s always been encouraging him to find life past him; because they both _deserve_ it. They both deserve to have a life far beyond the confines of Iwatobi and a fated love story that they’ve decided for the other.

Haru has been living in just as much pain as he is. Makoto realizes he’s been blind not to see it. For someone who believes he knows Haru more than anyone else, he really is an idiot. He reaches out nervously, tentatively, cupping Haru’s face with his hand. “I’ve been selfish, haven’t I?” He says finally, inching closer. “All this time, I’ve been wishing you could see me, but I never really saw _you_ , did I?”

“Cause Makoto’s an idiot,” Haru replies grumpily, and Makoto laughs.

“I’m sorry,” he says, pressing his forehead to Haru’s. “Can Haru-chan forgive me?”

They’re so close together, Makoto can feel Haru’s eyelashes flutter against his cheek. He can feel Haru’s breath against his skin, and it feels like coming home for the first time in so long. “I’ll forgive you over and over again, if I have to,” Haru breathes, the words ghosting Makoto’s skin. “If you’ll just shut up and kiss me now.”

Makoto’s dreamed of this moment forever. He never imagines it will be in the dead of night, under a streetlight, while they’re both got cherry blossoms tangled in their wet hair. Haru’s lips are soft, softer than his daydreams, and realer than any fantasy. His lips taste like chlorine, which is just like Haru. Haru nibbles against his bottom lip, and their tongues slide together like they were meant to be.

Haru pulls away, and Makoto is drawn to him like a moth to a flame. “Come home with me,” Haru says, running his fingers through Makoto’s hair.

There’s so much time to make up for. So many new moments to carve out of the wounds that’ve scared over from years and years of longing. Makoto vaguely wonders if he’ll wake up the next morning and things will be the same. Haru’s empty bed and the smell of coffee from the kitchen.

But right now he doesn’t care, because Haru is here and Haru’s love has kissed the hurt he’s been holding on to for far too long. Makoto takes Haru’s hand and kisses each of his fingers. “Let’s go home.”

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave a kudos/comment if you liked it! <3


End file.
